The Diamond In The Rough
by velveteenspirit
Summary: Castiel was the definition of a fallen angel. Hurting emotionally, and unwilling to burden the Winchesters, he deals with the pain in his own, secret way. Story about self-harm. Written as a symbol that things can, and will get better. Castiel, Sam and Dean. Please favourite/follow/review if you enjoyed reading it.


Castiel was a good son and a faithful soldier. His father may have left them, but he would always stay loyal to his family. The family which had now abandoned him. He was known now as 'The ultimate rebel'. It broke his heart. Dean might call him emotionless but because he didn't show emotion as openly, didn't mean he didn't feel it as strongly. Inside, he was breaking apart.

He didn't know how to fix it. He, along with the Winchesters, had broken the world countless times. He'd massacred his brothers and sisters, and for what? Power? Peace? Whatever the reason, now he didn't know how to fix the tear in his heart. It was swallowing him whole, but Dean and Sam needed him. He couldn't let them down. He was useful to them, that was all. They didn't really care, but having an angel in their arsenal, however tainted, could only help them. Especially with the recklessness with which they hunted.

But Castiel's emotions were becoming too much. This loneliness and guilt was something he'd never experienced before. His empathy with Dean allowed him to see a little of the utter self-hatred the hunter felt on a daily basis, but this was different. Castiel's heightened awareness of the world and its habitants left him feeling so desolate, he didn't know what to do.

It was on a simple hunt a few weeks later that Castiel found his solution. Dean and Sam had taken the left corridor, himself the right. A ghost that had gone on a murder spree was causing a small town to erupt into chaos. Castiel had vowed to look after his father's creations, and having failed before, he was determined that it would go on no more. So he joined the Winchesters on the hunt. As he wandered down the corridor, he wondered what his family was doing. Hidden from them, he had no contact at all, and was lonelier than he could put into words. If not for his desire for redemption, Castiel would've left for a distant corner of his dad's universe years ago.

Interrupted from his thoughts, a cold atmosphere swept over the corridor and Castiel tensed in anticipation. Maybe it was his dark thoughts, or his lack of fighting recently, but the angel wasn't ready when the spirit appeared behind him. Although his vessel was visible to humans, his wings were only visible to other angels and spirits that had crossed the veil. So when Castiel dodged out of the way of the ghostly knife aimed at his body, his wing was instead caught and slashed. The sensitivity of his majestic plumage was tenfold to skin, so he couldn't hold back the gut-wrenching scream of agony. From a distant corner of the building, the fallen angel heard Dean screaming his name but he found himself unable to answer.

Not because of the pain. But because of the relief. The guilt and sadness and pain he'd been feeling recently left in a flash, and only blissful, blank whiteness was left. For the first time in a long time, his problems disappeared. And then, he became aware of the world again, aware of Sam firing salt rounds at the ghost and Dean shouting his name in his face.

"…-stiel! CAS! CAS! C'mon, man, answer me! What did the son-of-a-bitch do to you, huh?! Cas!" Dean looked manic, an utter panic in his deceptively wet eyes.

"I am fine, Dean. We should dispatch of the spirit now."

Now the elder Winchester looked at him as if he had grown another wing. "Cas…you were screaming. And not in the good way. I know those screams, you were in serious pain. So, tell me, what'd he do? Lemme see you," he stood back and inspected Castiel's vessel for any damage. It was, of course, unharmed. But his invisible and injured wing was leaking essence, with some silver feathers broken in the struggle. The pulsing pain grounded him, allowed him to think clearly for once.

"Really, Dean, I am fine. I think the spirit must cause mental anguish but I do not remember. Sam, behind you, there is a piece of the man's clothing under some rocks, I believe this is what is tethering his should to" he countered calmy.

Sam quickly dispatched of the clothing, eyes glowing with the reflection of the now burning flames. Hunt over, lives saved, the three men returned to the Impala, tired and dirty. Although his wings caused him no discomfort when sitting, the cramped area sent his injured wing into spasm, and Castiel could not stop the wince that escaped from him. Dean sent a sharp look to him, worry and anger al over his face. Castiel was confused as to why he would be worried, until he realised that as their main weapon, being injured would make him even more useless to them, so he placed his normal, impassive mask back on his face.

Tapping along to a piece of music he enjoyed (though, why, Cas did not know. Personally, he found Heaven's hymns far more pleasing), Dean asked,

"Hey, Cas, you sure you're ok, man? You seem quiet. Well, quieter than usual, anyway. If you feel bad or anything, don't sweat it. That ghost coulda got the drop on any one of us, now c'mon, let's get you educated in the beautiful tones of Lynyrd Skynyrd."

"No, really, I am-"

"If I leeeeeave here tomoooorrow, would you still remember meeeee?…" and so he continued down the quiet road, Castiel quietly wondering at the feeling he got from the sudden rush of pain.

.

Months later, Castiel's behaviour became out of control, even for him. Not one drop of blood was spilled from his vessel, but his wings were screaming in pain, essence flowing from him on a daily basis. The feathers had thinned from their constant torture and the soft, downy surface underneath was uneven with scars and fresh wounds. Whether it was leaving his wings open and defenceless on hunts, or spats with renegade angels, he never left without a new scar, another rush of relief. Of course, when he did face one of his sibling's, their first reactions were that of complete horror at what had happened to what had been consider one of the finest pairs of wings in the whole of Heaven's garrison. But no angel was left alive to tell anyone.

At first, when Castiel had begun his war with himself, he was disgusted and fascinated at the effect it had on him. He instantly felt calm after he made one slash. And the Winchester's were not complaining either. With his lighter mood, what could be considered banter passed between the men more easily than ever before. But suddenly, one wasn't enough. He needed more and more until it had become an addiction he couldn't get away from now. And after the initial blankness, his failings and pain resurfaced with a vengeance. That was mostly because the essence now swirling around his being was picking up the pain and sorrow from humanity all around him. it was a vicious circle. The more he injured himself, the more he hurt.

The angel had never intended for anyone to find out, much less the Winchesters. He had no reason to believe they ever would. After all, they could only see them if he chose to show them, and that was as near a possibility as the cherubim interacting with the saints at the Gate.

His undoing came around on an uneventful day, one of the rare days off the three hunters got. They were walking through a small town, heading to the motel they had rented, when he heard his name called.

"Castiel, is that you?!"

Dean, Sam and Castiel tensed, hands going to the angel blades they now each had tucked into their belts of up their sleeves. Turning, Castiel prepared to face and murder another of his brothers, before he got a good look at the angel underneath the vessel's exterior.

"…Nuriel? I…I heard you were dead. It is good to see you, brother."

"Hey, Cas, we got a problem here? Friend or foe? 'Cause, I gotta tell you, I'm more than a bit uneasy here."

"Friend, Dean. Stand down", he replied absently.

It was said absently because all he could register at the moment was Nuriel's gaze of horror at the ravaged frames that used to be his wings. He supposed that, indeed, he sight must've been shocking to one such as Nuriel, a close ally of Castiel in some of his hardest times. Ashamed, Castiel looked down and replaced his blade to his sleeve - he would not spill anyone's blood but his own today.

"Castiel…what…happened to you?! This is horrific, who hurt you? I've never seen anything like it!" Nuriel's emotions had clearly become more potent in his time on earth. However, this did not concern Castiel. What concerned him was Dean's razor sharp ears picking up on the truth in the stranger's voice.

"Cas? Cas, what's he talking about? You're hurt?! You look fine, why didn't you tell us?"

"Castiel, brother, you need attended to. You should have told the humans you accompany. They may have helped. Was it Abbadon, or some renegade angels? I will avenge you, brother. I will forever remain loyal to you!" Nuriel roared in anger.

"No need, old friend. I am fine. Now, we must be on our way, it was truly an honour to cross paths with you once more," he turned to walk away, taking the brothers with him, when Nuriel grabbed his arm.

"No, brother, allow me to help."

"Hey, Cas, I don't know who this son-of-a-bitch is, but if you're hurt, you're getting his help. Now. No arguments," Dean turned to the other angel and said "Hey, weirdo, zap us back to the motel, clearly we got some talking to do."

Sam remained silent with a curious expression on his face, as though he was trying to see the wings that were invisible to his inferior eyes. Then, he blinked and found himself in the room they had settled in for the week. Nuriel stood, crestfallen, as he watched the essence in clear agony swirling around Castiel's wings, trying to get back home to his heart.

"Now, brother. It is time to tell me who I must hunt down and torutre tenfold to their damage to you. And if these wounds are anything to go by, there will be nothing left of them." Castiel had never seen the usually peaceful angel in this agitated state before, but before he could make an excuse, Dean stood between them, back to Cas.

"Hold on a sec, jumbo wings. Before we do any hunting - which, by the way, I WILL be joining you on -, you mind telling me how exactly Cas is injured? In fact, I don't care if you mind, you're telling me."

Nuriel furrowed his brow, his own wings flapping in agitation. "His wings. You cannot feel the anguish? No, I suppose you would not. Human emotions are so superficial in comparison. But Castiel must be in extraordinary pain from these injuries, and some look months old. This has been torture. Torture for a long, long time…" he said, breaking off as his deep, old emotions threatened to make themselves known.

Now Sam and Dean straightened, anger and guilt flowing from them freely, picked up by Castiel's essence and providing a much needed rush of pain at that moment. Breathing deeply, Castiel prepared for the oncoming storm of the Winchesters when they were upset. Dean turned to face him faster than he had thought possible of the man.

"Cas. I can't see them. What happened to them? What happened to your wings? Let me see, c'mon, Cas…" Dean lowered his voice as he spoke, green eyes staring into blue ones.

At this point, Nuriel interjected. "Winchester, your eyes would usually be unable to look upon the might of a high angel's wings in their full glory, but Castiel's are so…so decimated, that one as lowly as you will see them fine. They used to be so beautiful. The rainbows. The diamonds…The silver and gold. Dean, make sure they return to that splendour. I must leave, but when you discover who did this to my brother, pray to me and I will send my holy wrath upon them with such destruction, it will go unparalleled." With that threat in the air,there was a flap of wings and now there was two humans and one angel, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"Ok now Jumbo's gone. Time for a show-and-tell, Cas. You got some explaining to do."

Of course Dean was angry. If one of their guns was faulty, they would be angry and either fix it or throw it away. Castiel, their other form of weapon, was terrified of the latter option.

"Wait, Dean," Sam muttered, that strange look returning to his face. He slowly approached the corner Castiel had retreated to in his discomfort.

"Cas…Castiel. Are you alright? Talk to us. Have you…been injured?"

"…yes."

Dean walked forward to ask more, but Sam's hand shot out to stop him, silently communicating his wishes.

"Ok, Cas. And how were you hurt? Did someone attack you?"

This time, Castiel looked down and remained silent.

"Cas! You got-"

"Dean! It's ok, Cas, just nod your head if I'm right, ok?" Sam was speaking gently, as if talking to a wild animal. At this point, Castiel felt like one, defences falling apart at the seams.

"Castiel…it wasn't someone else, was it? It was you. You did it to yourself…didn't you?"

Castiel's eyes shot up to meet the younger Winchester's worried ones, with a fear he did not comprehend. However, that didn't stop his vessel nodding, almost against his will.

Sam's eyes closed in realisation and pain, while Dean recoiled as if faced by a poisonous snake. This was something Dean would not understand. When in pain or angry, he went out and cut some monster up. Castiel did the same, only, in his case, the monster was himself.

"Cas…show us…" Sam whispered, voice thick with unspoken emotion. Empathy.

Dean looked between Cas and Sam, terrified of seeing, unable not. Castiel sighed. The moment had come when the Winchesters would get rid of their toy when they realised it was defective. Resigned to his fate, he closed his eyes, sighed once more, and allowed the invisible barriers to fall from his wings, to the extent that not all humans, but those who had been in touch with angels before, would be able to see them. Nuriel was right. Had his wings not been damaged to such an extent, lowering his power to this level would still have burned the eyes out of both of the men.

The angel kept his eyes closed, unable to face the disgust that would surely be on their faces. However, he was unable to miss the sharp intake of breath and the hitch in one of their throats as they took in the damage. Both wings, once a brilliant array of colour and flourish, were now grey and thin. The essence flowing and escaping around them still was quietly screeching in pain and emotional toil. Silver drops fell to the floor, turning black as it fell and was corrupted by the earth's air. The very tips of the wings were also starting to turn black, having taken more they could handle and succumbed to the pain. Castiel was dying from the inside out.

After what seemed like hours, Sam cleared his throat.

"Cas…you…why didn't you tell us? This is bad. Really, really bad. I mean, your wings are still beautiful, I've never seen anything so magnificent, but…I can _hear _them, Cas. The unbelievable pain they're in. And look at them…they're so…hurt."

Castiel slowly opened his eyes and raised his head, looking uneasily at the younger hunter's eyes. They were brimming with emotion, understanding and…love? Then he glanced at the corner, at the bundle against the wall. Dean had collapsed to the floor, in so much anguish, he was rocking and whispering to himself. His angelic sense picked them up with no problems…unfortunately.

"no, no, no, no….Cas, no…meant to protect my family…can't even do that…so hurt he's doing that…had no idea…oh god…oh god, no…"

Looking close to a breakdown, Sam approached his brother and put an arm on his shoulder.

"Dean, c'mon, man, Cas needs us…"

As if suddenly waking, Dean's eyes met Castiel's across the room, salty liquid escaped down his face. Rare it was for a Winchester to cry, let alone Dean Winchester, king of bottling up emotion. So when he saw his friend's pain, Cas' increased tenfold.

"I am sorry, Dean, Sam. I understand the pain I have caused you. I will leave, and if you wish, I will not see either of you again…"

Cas saw Dean get up and rapidly approach him, and readying himself for a punch to the face, looked up. He deserved nothing less before he left.

What he got was arms wrapped tightly around him, tears quickly soaking into his trench coat, and hands so careful of the damaged wings, a baby could be no safer in his grasp.

"Cas, you damn idiot, you're family. Why didn't you tell us, tell me?! You are never doing this again, you hear me? Never. I'm here, man, I'm here. I got you."

Castiel pulled back and looked between the two men he considered his own family. Instead of the hate and disgust he had expected, all he saw was love and compassion. Frowning, he realised he may have had it wrong. Humans really did never fail to surprise him. Pulling both in for another hug, he sighed.

"I will not do it again, Dean. These wings were made for spreading love and joy. I had lost sight of it, I think. But with you and Sammy (he surprised himself with the nickname, but Sam didn't seem to mind, smiling faintly at the sentiment, in fact) beside me, I think I'll find it again."

.

In the months after, things were not perfect for Castiel. He still made mistakes. His wings were slowly and painfully healing. He was still exiled from every and all angelic communities, but with the support and love he received from his human family, things were not so bleak. He may not be back to the diamonds Nuriel had asked of Dean, yet, but for now, he felt like a diamond in the rough. All perfect diamonds take time and care to come to their full potential. And Castiel had plenty of that with the Winchesters beside him. One day, he'd shine again.


End file.
